Examining my anchor one last time before leaning 160 pounds of body mass and climbing gear over the edge of the small ledge, my heart bound a bit harder than at rest, knowing that my life lay entirely in my own hands and in the confidence I’ve placed on building natural anchors. One hex cammed into a 2-inch crack along with a #1 and a 0.4 Black Diamond Camolot worked effortlessly as a team, like a strong man’s arm reaching from the split in the rock securely gripping my harness, which calmed my chest and arms so I could take steady photos of the guys climbing up toward me. This has become pure joy in the book of Matt. After safely rappelling back to the horizontal world where we spend most of our time—Dylan, Knox, Noah, Hunter, Christian, Chase and myself began our exploration of the opposite side of the 120-foot rock feature that stood perched upon a lightly traveled ridgeline in Eastern Kentucky.
As if on another planet entirely, we zigzagged the terrain, taking in awe the size of the trees, one which was relocated roots and all, as if a God Himself gently reached down from heaven and with His thumb and forefinger then pinched and pulled it up like a pesky little weed and tossed it aside. Dylan’s brain was actively putting the pieces together, recreating the hurricane winds in his mind’s eye that tossed one tree into another, pushing down a third into a domino effect now left for the earth-dwelling creatures who would harvest their decay. As he processed the world around him, his step landed in what I would rightly call a bear trap. Though only a crack in the rock, it locked in his shoe so tight that it took the strength of 2 rock climbers to reclaim its rightful use to be worn by the mere mortal that roamed on this living environment.
At last, the perfect splitter came into view, a hand-jam sized crack on a blank face and we nestled in to our new home for the next few hours. Knox, Noah, and Dylan wasted no time setting down their gear and climbing on the many boulders that scattered the landscape as far as one could see down the valley. Covered in thin moss, they looked like sleeping giants hunkered down in the trees, hiding from the blue sky that illuminated the forest now bare of its spring leaves. As Chase geared up for the climb, he looked down the valley to make out two of our crew crawling up a boulder on all fours, like Smeagol from Lord of the Rings. The guys were like kids let loose from mom and dad at the biggest playground known to man—earth. But as the kids played, “mom and dad” had some work to do: get the family safely up to the top of Crack Attack, rated at a 5.9+ at Indian Creek Crag. Chase was excited to lead it, having waited 10 years for this opportunity to put his climbing skills to the test… I was giving instruction to Christian and Hunter as to where to find lunch in our array of packs while Chase gave a concerned shout out to his belayer to watch this part particularly close. He worked to focus and get his hands into the crack just right so that physical security would give him mental security as well. Deciding to move out toward the anchor in a strong push to the finish, he set the rope in his prebuilt quad anchor and came down, grinning ear to ear—"it was a sweet climb!”
I led the climb next then we hollered for “the kids” to come home so they could partake in this epic rock climb that they’ve traveled so far to try. Not getting any response besides our own echos off the sandstone faces that closed us in on two sides, we tried again: “Dyyyyyyyyl—annnnn! Noooooooooo—ahhhhhh!” Giving up hope that they were close yet clinging to hope that they were alright; just out of earshot we gave it a rest and got Hunter tied in to climb. One by one we tied in, faced our fears head on and gave it our best effort. The highs from that day ranged from the climbs, to meeting Chase, to playing in the truck-sized rocks that cluttered the forest. And although we all had our own unique experience on Crack Attack, there is one thing that we all had in common: family. Community. Call it what you will, but spending time together, playing, eating, climbing, and sharing our lives with one another… that was felt by everyone. I am beginning to see how a Project Forty trip resembles a family unit and older I get the more like “dad” I become. I’m watching out for my kids to make sure they don’t push the boundaries too far and even like our time at Crack Attack, having that fatherly conversation about going to the bathroom when you were just sitting around waiting, instead of at the very moment it’s your turn to tie in and climb. Kids.
-Matt
Comments